


You think this troubles me?

by stormthedarkcity



Series: Fictober 2018 [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormthedarkcity/pseuds/stormthedarkcity
Summary: Dorian makes a new friend upon arriving at Haven.





	You think this troubles me?

The inn in Haven is small and decrepit, like most of the buildings there, but Dorian still finds himself heading there as soon as he’s left his belongings in the cabin that got offered to him. He sits at the counter and orders their best wine. The bartender chuckles and answers they only have a single kind, and Dorian huffs while forcing a polite smile on. A cup is deposited in front of him. Lost in the contemplation of the unappetising red liquid in it, he doesn’t notice someone hoisting themselves on the stool next to him.

“They stare at you,” says a rough voice to his side, making him jump. It’s that dwarf that was with the rest of the Inquisition earlier, still wearing his coat open in spite of the cold. He is perched on the edge of the stool and is studying Dorian.

“Who does?” Dorian senses his irritation seep into his voice.

The dwarf gestures vaguely in the air. “Everyone. The soldiers, the templars… Void, even the civilians do.”

As though that would escape Dorian’s notice. He raises an eyebrow. “You think this troubles me?”

“I have no idea, Sparkler. I don’t know you yet.” His simple honesty, paired with the unexpected nickname, disarms Dorian for a moment. He shakes his head.

“Well then you should know: I am used to the staring.” He takes a gulp of wine, winces at the taste, thinks. “It’s even become a little flattering, come to think of it.”

The dwarf laughs at that. Dorian smiles a bit, grateful for the easily amused audience.

“I’m Varric, by the way.” The dwarf extends a scarred, ink-stained hand. Dorian shakes it. Varric quickly glances towards the bartender, who’s busy talking with a customer, and then leans closer. “You shouldn’t drink here,” he says in a lower voice.

“If you’ve got anything better, I’m listening,” Dorian assures with a look of undisguised disgust at his wine.

Varric smiles, a spark of conspiracy in his eyes. “There’s always a better way, when you know who to speak to!”

Dorian studies him for a moment. “I like the way you think,” he decides. He hasn’t made a friend that quickly in a long time.

He will learn later that this is just how Varric is: friendly, keeping an eye on everyone, and full of connections.

Like the ones one would require to get Tevinter wine delivered to Haven.

“It’s part of my usual deliveries,” Varric will say with a shrug. Dorian will know it isn’t. He won’t comment.


End file.
